Page 42 of Sweet Heart for the Bear

But one sniff of her delectable scent tonight and there is no question.

She is mine.

The only woman in the entire universe—make thatmultiverse—who is meant to be mine.

My heart is pounding, slamming against my ribs like the heavy tattoo of a stadium drum line, relentless and deafening.

My Bear is restless—pawing at the ground in the metaphysical realm, pacing like a caged animal, waiting, demanding that I do something, that I claim her the way nature intended.

But I can’t just do that.

Not yet.

Because she doesn’t know.

Doesn’t knowwhatI am.

Doesn’t know that my soul recognized her before my brain did, before logic had a say, before reason could talk me out of it.

Andfuck, I don’t even care.

Because right now?

She laughs—light, melodic,perfect—at some offhand comment I barely remember making.

And I am so damn thrilled that I’m the one responsible for it, I don’t even care if I wasn’t trying to be funny.

Because she is.

She’s so sweet. So good. So kind.

She’s honest in a way most people pretend to be.

And I love everything about her—even though I know it is way too soon for that word to be lurking in my thoughts like a hungry,er, Bear.

But it’s there, anyway.

It’s there, and it’s real, and it’s only growing stronger.

Uncle Uzzi is a certified genius.

Without even trying, the old Witch matchmaker extraordinaire somehow found my fated mate.

Well.

Technically, we found her together—when we had lunch atPizza Girlsthe first time I met the old man.

But who’s counting?

That was his idea, wasn’t it?

To have lunch? To discuss our business?

Yeah. No doubt about it.

The man is awesome.

But not as awesome as her.

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